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Dean A. Faiello Adivina Fed up with my wreck-strewn, chaotic life, ricocheting between New York City crises, I decided to liquidate my few urban assets and dee to a Central American rain forest. Rather than face the task of changing my life, I took the easier route. I was lured by the romance of live volcanoes overlooking black sand beaches and banana trees. For two hours, as my Jeep snaked its way through the basaltic mountains of Costa Rica, I had little idea what to expect at each precipit...

I Shout, Ergo, I Be Word count: 3000 D. Faiello Attica CF I Shout, Ergo, I Be August heat and hatred swirled around me. Men hollered between cells, filling the bricks and concrete of Attica with vented steam. They had few outlets except shouting, or fighting. "I’ll stab ya face, punk." "Come over here *n say that, you bitch ass nigga." "Hey yo, last nigga talk to me like that was part a my indictment." "You don't like it? Pop, nigga." I sat in my c...

D. Faiello O6A6671 hD—44/19 Memento The African sun, a shimmering orange disc, heated the Serengeti plain on the morning that Olivia's mother gave birth to a girl, Tamika. As the sun descended that night, providing relief from the sweltering heat, Olivia began to dig a single grave for both her mother and new- born sister. Their faceless identities were added to the list of two million lives claimed by HIV that year, and every year. I Olivia's father watched the burial,_§mxhd by the...

Dean A. Faiello Word Count: Approx. 3000 Attica CF Metanoia I watched Richard Robles, sitting just outside his cell, create a lush, stately oak tree using watercolors and a small, inexpensive brush. I could see the details of each leaf. Yet Richie has been nowhere near a tree for fifty years. The closest tree is far beyond Attica's massive concrete wall, in a world in- accessible to Richie. The last time Richard enjoyed freedom, the Beatles were on tour in the U.S., and LBJ was in the Wh...

Parole's Fifth Dimension by Oliver Giola West, Jr. "Do you think that there arc things which >ou cannot understand, and yet which arc; that some people see things that others cannot?" —Dr. Van Hclsing in Brain Stoker's Dracuia. Rehabilitation Isolation Incapacitation - With The Passage of Time. Deterrence Unfortunately and realistically speaking, the Board of Parole (from interrogatories submitted to the then former governor mid interim chairperson of the Board of Parol...

JANUAR Y-FERRUAR Y 2011 REALISM IN REGARD TO PAROLE by Oliver Giola West, Jr. "Education is tiic most powerful weapon which >ou can use to change the world." Nelson Mandela lu this article I will provide a sensible outline as to why the Board of Parole's ontological culture is not base on realism. However, the Board of Parole's actions has shown patterns by creating a threat of arbitrary enforcement, in denying eligible-violent offenders discretionary parole release. &q...

Reparative Therapy D. Faiello Word Count: 4500 Attica CF‘ Reparative Therapy Everyone who loved me told me I needed to change, to give up what I was doing to myself. But I refused. Spoiled and stubborn, I clung to my hedonistic life -- drinking, partying, blowing coke up my nose. I didn't like change, and I wanted no part of it. As a result, a judge sentenced me to twenty years. I sat in the back of an antiquated prison classroom listen- ing to a community college professor conjugate Spa...

The Waiting Room . D, Faiello tword count: approx. 6825 . Attica CF The Waiting Room With the barrel of a drug rep's pen, I crushed hard rocks of cocaine in a mini—ziplock. My next patient, a laser facee lift, sat in the waiting room. I was tired. I had already per- formed with no lunch break three tattoo removals, a scar revi- sion, and five laser hair removals. It was 5:00 pm, and I needed a lift. 4 My assistant's Voice erupted from the phone intercom. "Your patient wants to ...

Dean A. Faiello Attica CF White Noise I opened my dresser drawer and stared into a pile of socks. I was confused and afraid. My mother had told us to pack quick- ly. We were leaving the suburban home I had lived in all my twelve years. My father stood beside me in a gray suit, tie loosened, collar open. His dark eyes were fixed on my dresser. He asked me if I needed help packing. The question infuriated me. How could he force us to leave our home, late at night, yet ask if we needed help pack...